


The Goal Weight

by Hawkbehere



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbehere/pseuds/Hawkbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Emily's life takes a turn for the worse, she finds a surprising--and irritating--champion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**PART ONE**  
  
**Present Day, Part 1  
**

* * *

  
“I’m 5’7” and one half, Miranda. Which I suppose makes me nearly six feet tall in these heels. Surely I didn’t have to close your office doors and have a seat because of your sudden interest in my height.” The only thing more disdainful and disinterested than the look on Emily’s face was the tone in her voice, a tone that would have shocked Miranda months earlier.  
  
“No. That’s just the first question, Emily.”  
  
“Then could I please have them all a bit more quickly, Miranda? Remember, your 3:30 conference call’s in an hour. Nobody but you could believe how busy we both are today.”  
  
Miranda ignored this, swallowing an ire that was perfectly justified, as Andy would have wanted. “I was also wondering how much you weigh?”  
  
The young woman’s eyes narrowed. “I have no idea. I don’t weigh myself.”  
  
Miranda’s voice was cool. “And yet you used to a have a goal weight—wasn’t that what you called it? If your incessant prattling about it was any indication, you used to weigh yourself constantly.”  
  
Emily’s eyes flickered with something very close to fury. “I gave that habit up months ago.”  
  
“Oh, I’m quite sure you did. What was that goal weight, by the way?”  
  
“I don’t know that’s any of your business and what does that have to do with work?”  
  
“It’s just a question, Emily. Why so hesitant to respond?”  
  
The Englishwoman chewed out her answer, “Anywhere under 120, preferably 115.”  
  
Miranda pursed her lips, “115—that would be rather thin for your height and bone structure.”  
  
Emily laughed scornfully, “Said the woman who perpetuates the image of the human female clothes hanger as the standard of beauty every day of her working life.”  
  
Miranda nodded, “So true. But as you well know, most of the women who model for me are naturally thin. Someone like…Serena, say, who is virtually six feet tall without heels, is an example. She’s naturally thin. In fact, I’m sure she eats quite normally, wouldn’t you think?”  
  
Wow! Miranda actually flinched at the look of malevolence that Emily shot her. Having had a life filled with considerable hatred aimed her way, she’d been on the receiving end of looks that should have killed her, but nothing like this.  Emily’s nostrils flared gently as if fighting for emotional control. “I can’t answer that question, Miranda, because I don’t follow the dietary habits of my coworkers. But if that’s a new job requirement, tell me and I’ll add it to the list.”  
  
“Coworker? What an interesting choice of words. I was under the impression that Serena was your friend.”  
  
“Coworker. Friend. Whatever. Does anything you’re asking or saying have a point? And, if so, could we get to it?”  She obviously forced herself to add, “Please?”  
  
“Yes. I have point. I want to know how much you weigh.”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Well I do. I can estimate the weight of any female within about two pounds just by looking at them.”  
  
Emily forced a sarcastic grin, “How lovely for you. If this editing thing doesn’t work out, you can take that talent on the road with a carnival.”  
  
Miranda actually laughed—a real laugh. Nobody spoke to her this way. Nobody. It was actually rather enjoyable but scarcely the point. “You weigh between 101 and 103 pounds, Emily.”  
  
“Right. Well. I’ll certainly take your word for that. Now that we’ve ferreted out how much I weigh, can I get back to work?”  
  
“No. You have a new goal weight. At least 115 pounds. At least.”  
  
Emily blinked and then shook her head in disbelief. “What? What are you saying?”  
  
“You’re gaining at least 15 pounds.”  
  
The answer was a short bark of laughter, “Or what? You’ll fire me? Go ahead. Fire me.”  
  
“No. I’m not going to fire you. You’ll have to quit. Oh, but that’s right. We both know you won’t quit because you’re actually no quitter, except where eating’s concerned.”  
  
“You can’t make me—that’s ridiculous. Is that even legal?”  
  
“The legality of it is beside the point. You will not starve yourself to death outside my office.”  
  
“I’m not anorexic, Miranda.”  
  
“I didn’t say I thought you were.”  
  
Emily continued, “I don’t look in the mirror and see a fat person. I don’t weight myself—ever. I’m just not interested in food—or anything else for that matter.”  
  
“Again, I’m not saying you’re anorexic. Maybe you’re just deeply depressed. Maybe any number of things. My concern is that the results are the same, are they not? You can see that you’re starving, can’t you?”  
  
“Yes, of course I can but I don’t care. Given that, what’s your plan, Svengali? You force-feed me?”  
  
“No. The plan is this. You will eat breakfast and I will know if you have or not because I will ask and, despite this new attitude of yours, you’re still a wretched liar. You will drink one can of Ensure Plus during the mid-morning. To keep you from cheating, you will pour it in a clear glass and Sara will watch you drink it.”  
  
For the first time, Emily raised her voice, “You brought Sara into this? How dare you?! It’s my bloody body—and my bloody privacy!”  
  
Miranda held up a hand, “Sara knows if she breathes one word of this, I’ll hear about it and she’ll not only _not_ be my second assistant anymore, she’ll find it very difficult to be anything anywhere in New York. On with the plan. You will take forty minutes for lunch and—“  
  
“Oh—is Sara going to watch me at lunch? Who’ll answer the phones? We both know you won’t do it.”  
  
“Sara will answer the phones. Serena will have lunch with you.”  
  
The look on Emily’s face was unreadable but tears welled in her eyes, “You had no right to involve Serena in this. No right!”  
  
“She won’t say a word either and she seemed quite willing to help.”  
  
“I won’t do it.”  
  
“You will.”  
  
“Fire me.”  
  
“Why would I fire you? You’ve been performing your duties quite spectacularly lately. I’ve been deeply impressed.”  
  
Emily didn’t bother to wipe the tears that ran down her cheeks, “That’s because I no longer give a flying fuck what you think, what kind of mood you’re in, what you say to me or if you fire me. I don’t fucking care.”  
  
Miranda merely nodded, “Interesting. Keep that attitude. It seems to be working for you. On with the plan. In the afternoon you will place another can of Ensure Plus in a clear glass and drink it in front of Sara. When you get home, you will force yourself to eat dinner and, again, I will ask, and I will know if you’re lying.”  
  
“Why are you doing this, Miranda? Oh—wait! Don’t tell me. Andy bloody Sachs. Andy put you up to it, just like she put you up to that absurd bit of subterfuge to force me into having dinner with her the other night. This is entirely ridiculous, not to mention a humiliating and hideously undignified thing to put me through.”  
  
“One. Andy did not put me up to this. Rather the opposite. I put her up to that dinner. Two. If you continue on the disastrous path you’re on, I assure you that you’ll find it far more undignified to be hospitalized and force-fed with a tube stuck up your nose and down into your stomach. Have you ever seen that?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I have. Twice. Years ago. A young Czech model and a younger American model.  They _were_ anorexics. They starved themselves to death. I couldn’t do anything about them but I’m going to do something about you. Since I won’t fire you and you won’t quit, it looks as if we’re stuck with each other. This is a job requirement, Emily. You will gain fifteen pounds.”  
  
The Englishwoman looked as if she were trying to think of something blistering to reply, but Miranda waved her hand airily. “I’ll save you the trouble. I know you hate me and perhaps even think I’m gaining some perversely evil bit of pleasure at your expense. But I can promise you there’s no fun involved. I’m much too busy to monitor an adult’s nutrition.”  
  
Emily opened her mouth to reply but Miranda beat her to it, “No no. If it weren’t _me_ , evil, overbearing me, the bane of your working existing—if some _other_ person took the time to help you in what is clearly a health crisis, you might assume that person actually cared about you and your welfare.” She tilted her head, “Might you not?”  
  
Emily’s eyes lowered and she pursed her lips but nodded.  
  
“Right. Your Ensure is in my refrigerator. I ordered every flavor although I’m sure most of them taste perfectly vile. Start today, sip it slowly and limit your intake for the next few days to liquids, very light solids and build up from there. What I described is the very least I will tolerate. I’d prefer many small meals, many times per day. Do we understand each other?”  
  
Emily nodded.  
  
“This is advice from my nutritionist whom I consulted regarding your condition. You have an appointment with him tomorrow at 9AM in the small conference room. I also expect you to make an appointment with your doctor as soon as possible. Sara will man the desk—or woman the desk, whatever one does these days.”  
  
Emily was still looking at the floor, her chin almost on her chest. Miranda stood, circled her desk and did something she’d never done. She touched Emily’s face, placing two fingers under her chin and gently lifted in order to force the younger woman to look her in the eyes. “I know this is hard but I couldn’t just ask nicely. Be honest. Would that have accomplished anything?”  
  
The answer was a slight shake of the head. No.  
  
“Right. Just remember, you have to be alive to hate me. And soon you’ll have much more energy, the more vigorously to hate me with. That’s something to look forward to, right?”  
  
The corners of Emily’s mouth lifted a little and Miranda smiled, “Yes. There. I have noticed that just the idea of hating me can lift the spirits.”  
  
She sat on the edge of her desk. “That’s all.”  
  
Emily stood and crossed to the door but before she opened it, turned and said, “I don’t hate you, Miranda, but I’m angrier with you right now than I have ever been with anyone in my life.”  
  
Miranda nodded, “Good. We should get lots of work done today, then, shouldn’t we?”

* * *

  
As Emily stalked out of the office, Sara couldn’t look her in the eye. The blonde girl was relatively new but was doing well and was only slightly less frightened of Emily than she was of Miranda.  
  
“Traitor!” Emily hissed.  
  
Sara blushed and whispered back, “I couldn’t say anything. I’d get fired!”  
  
Emily glared at her as she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Can after can. She grabbed a glass and a can labeled chocolate and marched back out to her desk. As the thick liquid glug-glugged its way into the glass, she felt her gorge rise at the consistency and the smell. She took a tentative sip, put the glass down, and closed her eyes. It took a few seconds before she could force herself to swallow. She leapt up and in just a few seconds she was at Sara’s desk with the glass and a teaspoon.  
  
“Taste this!”  
  
Sara’s eyes widened and she whispered, “I can’t. You have to drink it all.”  
  
“Bollocks! It’s one bloody teaspoon. Taste what I’m being forced to drink under your supervision.” She held out the teaspoon and Sara opened her mouth.  
  
When the blonde woman had swallowed it, she smacked her lips with distaste. “Wow. That….really sucks.”  
  
Emily leaned down and hissed in her ear, “You’re bloody right it does. If I mixed Hershey’s cocoa in latex paint, it would taste better than this shite.”  
  
She reseated herself and tried holding her nose as she took the next sip and wondered even as she did so why she’d put herself through this. She swallowed and shuddered with disgust, both at the taste and at herself. Of course she was drinking it. Miranda Fucking Priestly had told her to.

* * *

  
Later that night, when Miranda had sent Sara down for the book, curiosity overtook her. She opened the refrigerator, pulled out a can labeled vanilla, wiped the lid with a paper towel and popped it open. She took a healthy swig and was grateful that no one was around to see her spit it, and quite inelegantly, into the sink. _My God_ , she thought, _that poor girl_.

* * *

  
At that very moment, Serena was drinking tea. She’d given up reading her book thirty minutes earlier because there was no use reading the same page over and over again. She would start having lunch with Emily tomorrow, as per Miranda’s orders, and felt her stomach flipping with anxiety. Emily had stopped speaking to her more than three months earlier and the Brazilian woman knew that it had been entirely her fault. What she’d been trying to do was stupid and ill-conceived and had backfired on her in the worst way she could imagine. But having unintentionally broken their friendship, Serena was given absolutely no avenue or opportunity to fix it or even any recognition that there was anything to fix. And, all the while, she’d watched the Englishwoman literally disappearing before her eyes.

* * *

**Four Months Earlier  
**

* * *

“Emily—tell Nigel, Gerardo and Serena to be here in 15 minutes.”  
  
“Of course, Miranda.”  
  
Emily rang the art department and passed along the message, almost choking as she repeated it.  
  
Gerardo Valentino. Emily’s eyes narrowed every time she heard the name. It wasn’t, apparently, a joke. It was the bloody bastard’s actual name. He’d arrived in the art department looking like a living fucking Roman god come to life, straight from _Runway_ Italy. Entirely masculine but gorgeous, with long locks of hair, beautiful eyes, pouting red lips any woman would kill for and an ass you could hang a hat on. And she had despised him instantly, although she never put the two facts together, the first moment she saw Serena look at him.  
  
He was charm itself, even she had to admit it, with his soft irritatingly bedroom Italian accent. He was intelligent, deferential and quite talented, apparently. Miranda was pleased with him, although unlike almost every other woman in the building, she seemed not to have noticed his looks at all. Thank God Miranda’s relationship with Andy had saved Emily from that bit of complete fucked-dom.  
  
When she, and the rest of the world, had learned of her employer’s relationship through a rather nasty, even brutal, outing by the Post, she’d been appalled. But, as time had passed, she noticed that Miranda did seem exponentially happier and, more importantly, slightly less inclined to dip her into hot lead for minor mishaps.  
  
When they arrived, Emily didn’t look up at them, “She’s waiting.”  
  
“How are you today, Emily?” Serena’s softly accented English, which Emily had always adored, had begun to grate on her nerves for a reason she couldn’t quite put a finger on.  
  
Emily didn’t look up from her monitor. “Perfect. How else would I be? I love my job.”  
  
Nigel didn’t say a word but, because he noticed everything, he raised his eyebrows. Ouch. And odd. The two women were good friends and he knew it.  
  
“Emily—you are looking very beautiful today,” Gerardo said quietly. At this, she did look up. He devoured every woman with his eyes. Emily wanted to devour him with her teeth—and not at all in a nice way. Her eyes were cold stones, “Thank you,” she said with not one bit of warmth or gratitude for the compliment. “As I said, Miranda is waiting.”  
  
“Of course, bella.”  
  
Serena looked at her friend, who would not look at her and Nigel looked at all three of them.  
  
Hmmm.

* * *

  
Emily was not incredibly introspective. She did know this about herself, which she felt was probably the limit of her introspection. But she’d known something had gone wrong, very wrong, with her world once Gerardo Fuckingtino (her personal name for him) had shown up.  
  
The first time she’d seen him, Serena had had to cancel their lunch date because of a new hire in the art department. Serena and Nigel and this person were having lunch for his first day. Fair enough. Emily had gone alone to the cafeteria for her salad and had seen Nigel and Serena with the new guy. When she saw him, she’d had to look twice, then snorted. That was certainly hot beef on the hoof. Hired for his brains, obviously.  
  
She happened to sit so that she was facing in Serena’s direction but couldn’t hear what any of them were discussing. It must have been delightful, though, judging by Serena’s reaction. Emily watched as Serena reached forward every so often and touched new-guy’s arm, a habit she had while talking to _her_ , a habit Emily found very pleasant. For some reason, however, she did not find watching this pleasant and had entirely forgotten her lunch to stare at Serena, who was treating this….perfect stranger like a friend.  
  
Serena happened to glance her way and smiled and waved, startled to see a look she’d never seen on Emily’s face. The Englishwoman did not smile or wave—she got up and tossed her uneaten salad in the trash.  
  
Later that day, when Serena had dropped off a couple of new layouts she asked, “Didn’t you see me at lunch? I waved.”  
  
Emily shook her head curtly, “I’m sorry. I must have been thinking of something and didn’t notice.”  
  
“Ah. But you must have noticed Gerardo.”  
  
“Oh, is that his name?  
  
“Gerardo Valentino. You saw him. Is that not perfect?”  
  
Emily’s smile was smarmy, “Of course it is. And not only good-looking, I take it? He seems to be terribly witty, given the hilarity at your table.”  
  
Serena shrugged. “He’s charming enough and pretty smart. Very Italian.”  
  
Emily nodded, “Yes. It’s getting to be a veritable melting pot of Romance languages in the art department, isn’t it?”  
  
Serena looked closely at her friend and hesitated…”I suppose you’re right. Portuguese, Italian, French…”  
  
“Yes. If you can find a Spaniard, you’ll have the major ones knocked out.”  
  
Serena lowered her voice, “Emily? Is something wrong?”  
  
Emily’s smile did not reach her eyes, “Of course not. I’m glad you have such a pleasant new coworker.”  
  
Serena was accustomed to Emily’s moods, which she usually attributed to Miranda. This didn’t feel like one of them. “If you say so—lunch tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course.”

* * *

  
As Serena walked back to the art department, she thought about the oddity of their conversation. Serena actually thought about Emily a great deal more than was good for her sanity. After their first year of nearly daily lunches, many dinners and movies, plus countless conversations, Serena had assessed the situation and realized none of it had taken even a chink out of Emily’s brick wall of ignorance surrounding Serena’s vicious crush on her. Four months after that, Serena felt she had to face facts. Emily couldn’t possibly be that obtuse. Short of pouncing on the Englishwoman, her behavior with Emily was so wildly overt, especially when they were alone, that her friend must simply be ignoring it in order to save her embarrassment or a possible breach in their friendship.  
  
But today, Emily had sounded like she didn’t like Gerardo, which was strange because she didn’t even know him. In fact, she’d sounded almost…jealous. She instantly felt butterflies in her stomach. Could Emily possibly be jealous of her? A mind-boggling thought—a thought that filled her with hopes she knew would probably be dashed. Her mind began racing. Lunch tomorrow.  
  
In many ways, their lunch the next day was everything Serena could have hoped for. Emily certainly cooled perceptibly the minute Serena mentioned Gerardo, and that coolness persisted until they changed topics. Perhaps, Serena thought, Emily did have feelings for her—and if she made her jealous enough, she would realize this.

* * *

  
Two weeks later, Emily was in a continually horrible mood, one she knew had something to do with Serena. And that fucking Gerardo. Of course, it wasn’t that Serena sometimes had lunch with him, although it had been slightly surprising and embarrassing to her to realize how much she’d come to depend on Serena and look forward to their lunches together. Because that was childish, wasn’t it? You couldn’t keep your friends locked in a box. And it certainly wasn’t that Serena had told her that she’d had dinner with Gerardo twice and some bilge about how nice and smart he was.  
  
She could still hear Serena’s laugh as she said, “And of course he isn’t hard to look at, is he?”  
  
Emily had felt her smile freeze on her face as she stabbed her fork violently into her salad, “I suppose not, if one is interested in perfection.”  
  
She’d meant it sarcastically but Serena had laughed, “And who among us is not?”  
  
So easy for Serena to say. She was so much more perfect than Gerardo. But she, Emily, was not. And never would be, no matter how hard she tried. Whatever the diet. She was not. And being upset about that was childish, too.  
  
Within no time at all, everyone at Elias Clarke assumed that Serena and Gerardo were an established ‘item,’ something Emily did not even bother to verify with Serena. Because who cared? To prove she didn’t care and that she wasn’t childish, Emily began rebuffing every one of Serena’s offers to meet her for lunch or to do anything at all. Even if that meant she had to sit in any empty room she could find and miserably eat carrots for 20 minutes at lunch.  
  
After one month of this, Serena knew she had been well and truly dismissed from Emily’s life. She’d only tried to make her see how important they were to each other, but Emily had taken the clumsy, stupid lob Serena had sent her way and backhanded it right down her throat

* * *

  
At about this time, Nigel took what he imagined was his life into his own hands—a stab at addressing female problems. Miranda was out at some luncheon and the second was on her lunch break so he had Emily to himself for at least 15 minutes.  
  
He whispered, “What’s wrong with you and Serena?”  
  
Emily looked up at him as if he were a green elephant, “What on Earth do you mean?”  
  
“Don’t play dumb. What’s wrong?”  
  
She ignored him, as best she could, staring at her monitor. “Nothing.”  
  
“Nonsense.” His voice was commanding. “ Emily?”  
  
She looked up. She had to—he was Nigel.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
She chewed her cheek and then said, “Nothing.”  
  
“Just who are you jealous of? Serena or Gerardo?”  
  
Emily flushed immediately, “I have no idea what you mean.”  
  
He looked into her eyes, which were filled with honest confusion. “Maybe not. But think about it and you will know. I hate to use cliché with you, but listen to your heart.”  
  
He pressed his pen gently to Emily’s forehead. “You’re jealous of one of them. And that’s as plain as the nose on your face.”  
  
When he left, Emily thought about this jealousy idea for exactly one minute and suddenly felt like throwing up. _Oh_. It _was_ just as plain as the nose on her face. But it was a revelation to her and suddenly she saw it all in high definition. She was ‘in something’ with Serena. But that was ridiculous and obviously a non-starter, wasn’t it? Perfect Serena. Perfect Gerardo. Imperfect her. One of the main themes of her life—never measuring up.

* * *

  
She solved the problem of her feelings for Serena in a typical British fashion: if one ignored a thing, did not acknowledge it, it simply did not exist. Her feelings did not exist. And she’d known, almost as soon as Gerardo had arrived, that she’d begun losing weight without ever stepping on the scale. She ignored this, too. After two months, the sight and smell of food revolted her. She knew she was finally under her goal weight—actually more than seriously under it and could not find the interest to be happy about that or even to care. She no longer recognized herself in the mirror but did not care about that either.  
  
She began to actively despise _Runway_ , despise the colors and the clothes and the designers that she would never be perfect enough for. Now, she truly recognized that it all revolved entirely around perfection as, of course, it always had. But she’d ignored that before and had never really acknowledged that the pursuit of perfection had such a tremendous cost or that a lack thereof could be brought home so brutally.  
  
_Runway_ no longer felt glamorous—it felt stifling. She found she was no longer frightened of Miranda because if the woman fired her, it would almost be a relief. Which, oddly enough, seemed to make her exponentially better at her job. She became, in many ways, nearly as terrifying to the assistants throughout the city as Miranda herself. And she continued to starve herself, without even meaning to.

* * *

  
It was very late at night and everyone else at _Runway_ had gone home.  
  
“Nigel?”  Miranda’s voice was cool.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Can you tell me what Emily’s malfunction is? I’m a bit concerned she’s going to die out there. She looks awful.”  
  
Nigel took a deep breath. “I believe she’s having romantic problems.”  
  
She sighed, “With Serena?”  
  
His eyebrows leapt even as he looked down at their layout, but why should he be surprised? She missed nothing. “No—that’s the problem. Serena’s been dating Gerardo.”  
  
Miranda tapped the layout with a perfectly manicured nail, “This font has to go. I can’t stand it anymore. Overused. And why would Serena date Gerardo when she’s so obviously enamoured of Emily?”  
  
Nigel blinked, “I have no idea.”  
  
“Clearly, we’ll have to intervene.”  
  
“Hmmm,” he blinked again, “Clearly?”  
  
“I’ll ask Andrea. She handles these things well.”  
  
_Clearly_ , Nigel thought, _if she handled you._  
  
“Good. Change the font.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Thank you, Nigel.”  
  
He smiled as he left the room. Miranda sometimes said this when other people weren’t listening **,**

* * *

  
“You want me to do what?”  
  
Andy was a bit—no, a lot, nonplussed at this directive from Miranda.  
  
“As I said, fix Emily and Serena. They’re out of their minds. They aren’t dating and want to be and it’s driving Emily, at least, a bit crazy.”  
  
“Okay….Miranda, what makes you think I can do anything for them? Emily hates me as much as she likes me and I hardly even know Serena.”  
  
Andy watched as her lover went over the book and blithely replied, “You’re good at emotional things, Andrea.” She looked up. “I am not.”  
  
Which was the linchpin to the argument and unfair because it would work and they both knew it. Andy crossed the room and snuggled into Miranda’s neck. “You’re good at emotion—just not with everyone. You’re very good at it with me.”  
  
Miranda sniffed but angled her head to enjoy the soft feeling of Andy’s face, “So you say.” Andy smiled at the softening of Miranda’s voice—the woman was a sucker.  
  
“Regardless, I think you should help Emily. She actually looks ill. She can’t weigh more than 101 pounds—maybe 103.”  
  
Andy’s eyes widened, “Are you kidding me? She’s basically my height!”  
  
“Yes. I believe so.”  
  
Andy knew Miranda could weigh any woman with her eyes. “Oh my God! That’s awful.”  
  
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Miranda gave the final blow, “She’s too disgustingly skeletal for even _Runway_ standards at this point.”  
  
“That’s mean, Miranda.”  
  
The woman didn’t look up from the book. “It is, isn’t it? But it is also true. Which is why I’m asking you to help her, if you can.”  
  
Andy thought about Emily, who was so disdainful of her but whom she could only sort of love. She adored Emily for just being…Emily. There must be a character trait for masochism somewhere in her makeup. Emily. Nigel. Miranda. “Okay. I’m on it.”

* * *

  
It took Andy two days to cobble a way into Emily’s presence outside of _Runway_.  
  
“Okay, Miranda, tell her you have dinner plans with me and that you can’t go and that I must have forgotten my cell phone. Tell her to come tell me personally.”  
  
When Emily entered the restaurant, Andy was truly shocked. The woman did not look stylishly slender; she looked seriously ill.  
  
Emily crossed to her table and said, while standing, “Miranda is detained and you don’t have your phone. She sends her regrets.”  
  
Emily’s eyes were dull, listless.  
  
“Why don’t you have dinner with me, then?”  
  
Emily hadn’t been born the day before, “So this is a set-up?”  
  
“Yeah,” Andy said sheepishly, “but please have dinner with me.”  
  
Emily nodded and sat, “Only because it’s a job requirement, Andy.”  
  
Andy looked over the menu, “Do you prefer beef or seafood?”  
  
Seeing Emily’s face go slightly green at the mention of food, she repeated, “What do you prefer?”  
  
“Seafood.”  
  
Andy ordered for herself and then ordered, “A good seafood broth—just broth, nothing else, for my companion and some bread. We’ll both have Pellegrino.”  
  
“You order well for a person you believe is under the weather.”  
  
“I’ve spent months with family members under the weather.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
  
“Thank you."  
  
“I assume I’ve been summoned for some purpose?”  
  
“Well, uh…Miranda was just wondering if something’s wrong and thought you might feel more comfortable talking to me. So…what’s wrong, Emily?”  
  
“Nothing I know of.”  
  
“Emily.”  
  
“Andrea.”  
  
“How’s Serena?”  
  
Emily’s lips paled even more markedly, “How would I know? Why would I care?”  
  
When the server brought the bread to the table, Andy lightly buttered part of a soft roll and handed it to Emily, “Eat this.”  
  
Emily scowled at Andy, looking into her brown eyes, which had always been and still were infuriatingly, unfailingly kind and took the bread from her hand. As she took a bite, she released a deep breath. Sustenance.  
  
Andy’s voice was soothing, “That’s good. Eat this bread. I’ll make it for you and you can drink your broth. You need it.”  
  
“I can butter my own bread, thank you,“ Emily snapped.  
  
“That’s not the point. The point is for someone to care enough to feed you.”  
  
Emily felt scalding tears run from her eyes, which she hastened to rub away and which Andy pretended not to notice. She buttered bread, which Emily ate and watched as the Englishwoman scooped every drop of broth out of her bowl.  
  
“Good,” Andy said, “No more or you might get sick.”  
  
Emily nodded and took a sip of water. “This proves nothing,” she said suddenly.  
  
“Why do you think I’m trying to prove something?”  
  
“You asked about Serena.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“What would she have to do with me?”  
  
Andy shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s a friend. Miranda said you guys don’t even talk any more.”  
  
Emily looked somewhere past Andy’s head, “Why does that matter?”  
  
“It doesn’t unless it hurts you. Something’s hurting you, Em. I say this with all the kindness I can. You don’t look stylish anymore. You look like you’re starving and sick. What’s wrong?”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong but it’s kind of you to ask. I’ll grant you that.”

* * *

  
Later, when Andy reported on the evening to Miranda, the woman pursed her lips. “So. She won’t tell you what’s wrong although it obviously involves Serena and something still clearly needs to be done.”  
  
Andy nodded vigorously, “You were so right. She’s not well.”  
  
“Alright. I’ll take care of it.”  
  
“How?  
  
“I’ll talk to a nutritionist and then I’ll order her to eat.”  
  
“Miranda. Honey. You can’t order somebody to eat.”  
  
“Of course I can. You’re forgetting two things. Who I am. And who Emily is. Can you really imagine there’s much Emily wouldn’t do for me, even if she hated me the entire time she did it?”  
  
Andy plopped on the couch next to Miranda and took her hand. “She doesn’t hate you—she worships you.”  
  
“Which proves, yet again, how desirable it is to choose a kind and benevolent deity. Unfortunately for her, she chose me.”  
  
“But I worship you and you’re kind and benevolent to me.”  
  
Miranda kissed her gently, “You’re a special case. Everything you offer me is exactly what I want. And speaking of what I want, why don’t we go up to bed.”  
  
“That’s a great idea,” Andy said in a hushed, sexy voice as she stood and opened a few buttons on her blouse so that her lover could see the lace of her bra, “because there are several things I want to offer you.”  
  
Miranda’s gaze traveled from Andy’s cleavage up to smoldering brown eyes. “Good. I’m in a particularly demanding mood tonight.”  
  
Andy traced Miranda’s lips lightly with her thumb, “And of all your moods, that’s one of my very favorites.”

* * *

**Present Day, Part 2**

* * *

  
  
Even as Serena was tormenting herself over her forced lunch with Emily the next day, the Englishwoman’s phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and grabbed it, looking at the clock.  
  
“Mum? It’s the middle of the night there. Is something wrong?”  
  
“You tell me. I woke up and got the feeling I should call you.” This was one of her mum’s spookier traits. She could always tell when her children needed her and she and her brothers were convinced the woman could read their minds.  
  
Emily felt her eyes stinging, just hearing her mum’s voice. “Nothing’s wrong. Not really. You know—Miranda, the job.”  
  
“Out with it, girl. That’s not it. Miranda bothers you every day of your life.”  
  
There really was no point in avoidance with her mother. The woman prided herself on being plain spoken, often making fun of her daughter’s accent, an accent Serena had worked quite hard to refine. She was also like a human nail-gun. She’d just keep going until you told her everything just to shut her up.  
  
“She’s making me eat.”  
  
“Eat what? Snails? Whatever else those types eat?”  
  
“No. Just food. And she’s making me drink these disgusting calorie drinks and she’s making someone watch me do it.”  
  
There was a long pause and her mother said softly, “Ah lass, what have you been doing to yourself?”  
  
And then Emily really started crying, “I don’t know—I’m not hungry and I didn’t try to lose so much weight but it happened and now I feel awful and it was humiliating that Miranda called me into her office and lectured me on eating and now she’ll be after me like a harpy every day. And she was _already_ a harpy!”  
  
Emily heard her mother snort in answer, then ask, “Well, how much do you weigh?”  
  
“101 pounds—oh sorry, about seven stone and a quarter.”  
  
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!  Of course she called you in! Are you mental? The devil wouldn’t even bother using his pitchfork on you—he’d turn you over with his big toe! Have you been to the doctor—are you sick, child?”  
  
“I don’t think so but Miranda’s making me see a nutritionist and go to my doctor, too. Those are parts of my new marching orders.”  
  
“Well, I never thought I’d live to say it but that’s a good day’s work on her part.”  
  
Emily grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her nose and her mother just listened to her sniffling for a long while, before saying “Okay—out with it. If you’re not sick, you don’t lose that much weight without trying. Not you anyway, Ms. Diet Every Day for a Decade. What are you pining about?”  
  
“I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
Whatever emotion there was in her voice made her mum say, “Ha! So. There we are and here you are trying to keep it from me. You’re pining for someone. Let’s have it. Are you in love?”  
  
Emily felt hot tears running down her cheeks again, “Yes. I think so. But my interest isn’t returned.”  
  
“Hmph! And he’s seen you and knows you? What’s wrong with the daft bastard?”  
  
She might as well say it, “It’s a not a man, mum. It’s a woman.”  
  
There was a very long pause, “Well then, what’s wrong with the daft bitch?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong with her—in fact that’s the problem. She perfect, perfectly gorgeous, perfectly sweet—”  
  
“Ah ah ah. Now, wait just a second. That sounds familiar. Is this that Serena you go on about?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then what’s the problem? You’re best mates.”  
  
“Not really anymore, since she started dating this perfect Italian man at work. I sort of avoided her after that.”  
  
“By that you mean you froze her out—I know you, girl.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well, that was stupid. Why didn’t you just tell her you’d rather her be dating you?”  
  
“I couldn’t do that! That would be—she’d probably laugh—she’d never consider…that. With someone like me.”  
  
“Why not with you? You need to get off your scrawny arse and show a little spirit.  I’d like to see the day an English woman goes down without a fight! And with an _Italian_ man? We thumped their arses in World War II and I’d thump his head if I saw him today and dare him to tell me what he thought about it!”  
  
Emily sighed as her mother talked; it was always best not to get her English pride up.  
  
“Alright, mum! I’ll do it. I’ll have to talk to her now anyway. Miranda’s making me have lunch with Serena every working day, as well, just to make sure I eat.”  
  
“Is she now? My God, but she’s a sly bitch. I’m beginning to understand what you see in her.”  
  
 “What do you mean?”  
  
“Matchmaker, matchmaker,” her mother sang slightly off-key.  
  
“No! She’s not—believe me, she wouldn’t bother.”  
  
“She is, or I’m not your mother. And I know I am because I remember that labor like it was yesterday. Perhaps that’s a character trait from birth—having trouble coming out.”  
  
Emily’s jaw dropped as her mother snickered into the phone. “Oh come on, you knew I’d have to give you a little stick about it.”  
  
“Yes. I know. Thank you for calling me, mummy. I feel so much better.”  
  
“You’re welcome, love. Keep eating, darling. You’re the rose of my heart.”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“Not as much.”

* * *

  
The next morning, Emily dutifully drank a small glass of milk and ate one piece of toast with one scrambled egg, groceries she’d bought the night before to replenish her empty refrigerator.  
  
As Miranda walked into the office, she threw her coat and bag on Sara’s desk and raised an eyebrow at Emily, who replied. “Milk, toast, egg.”  
  
Miranda nodded almost imperceptibly. _Right. That was easy_ , Emily thought. _Maybe this wouldn’t be the horror show she’d anticipated_. She decided to try to drink her morning cement early in order to save room for lunch, which was going to be hard enough to eat, considering her companion. She chose the strawberries  & cream flavor, poured it in her glass and brought a spoon along in case she needed Sara’s assessment. Sara saw the spoon and shot her an anxious, hopeful and friendly look that Emily answered with a nod before she took her first sip.  
  
Sara was cheered when Emily swallowed and laughed aloud. Really loudly and for a long time. So long that Miranda came out of her office. “Is there something you’d like to share, Emily?”  
  
“I’d love to share it, Miranda, but I can’t.” She pointed at her faintly pink drink. “That is the single most disgusting-tasting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”  
  
“Can you keep it down?”  
  
“I suppose I have to.”  
  
“Not particularly. You can choose another flavor but I wouldn’t suggest the vanilla.”  
  
“You tasted it?”  
  
Miranda replied airily, “Of course I tasted it. I’m not going to make you drink something I wouldn’t try myself.” She returned to her office and Emily, terrifically impressed, continued to sip her disgusting drink without further comment and to finish her morning work before her appointment with the nutritionist.

* * *

  
When Serena arrived to accompany Emily to lunch, neither of them knew that the other’s heart was pounding triple time. Emily felt a lump in her throat as Serena smiled sweetly, as if everything were normal. “Are you ready, Emily?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
They walked to the elevator without a word. As the elevator descended, Emily finally spoke, “Well. This is certainly awkward. I’m sorry that Miranda put you on food detail but it’s kind of you to agree. “  
  
“It doesn’t have to be awkward, Emily. Even if you don’t wish to be my friend, I’m always your friend. I’ve missed you and I’ve been very worried about you so I’m happy to help.”  
  
Emily felt her eyes sting, “But I…I do.  I do want to be your friend.”  
  
Serena glanced at her and smiled, “Well, good. We’ll talk about being friends while we eat.”  
  
As they made their choices, Emily held up a dinner roll, “Can you believe it’s now a requirement of my employment at _Runway_ to eat as many carbs as I want?”  
  
“See? And you thought there was no heaven on this Earth.”  
  
Once they had taken their seats, they ate in silence. Serena could see the concentration and effort it took for the other woman to eat anything at all and, because they were friends and did know each other, they each focused on their lunch. After Emily had made fairly good inroads on her meal, she threw her napkin on the table. “That’s all that’s staying down. I know that’s not exactly polite table conversation but it’s true.”  
  
Serena shrugged, “I think you did very well.”  
  
Emily opened her mouth, closed it…paused and then said, “I talked to my mum last night.”  
  
“Did you? Is she well?”  
  
“Yes, very. She gave me some advice.”  
  
“Don’t they always? Advice about what?”  
  
“Well actually, about you.”  
  
Serena put her fork down and gave the other woman her full attention. “Did you need advice about me?”  
  
“Yes. Well. Uhm, you see, my mother reminded me that when something upsets me or someone upsets me, I tend to ignore the problem and/or ignore the person.”  
  
The blonde woman nodded, “So I have upset you in some way, correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“We are very different, Emily. When I’m upset about something or with someone, I like to talk about it with that person.”  
  
“Yes. Right. That’s probably the wiser course.”  
  
“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”  
  
Serena watched Emily’s eyes widen in anxiety before she said, “You’ll think it’s ridiculous.”  
  
“You don’t know that unless you tell me.”  
  
Emily gripped the table until her knuckles turned white and said incredibly quickly, “I don’t want you to date Gerardo. I want you to date me.”  
  
Serena gaped at her, then slumped in her chair as if her backbone had given way. “Are you kidding me?”  
  
The Englishwoman blushed furiously, “See! I knew you would think—“  
  
“Emily! Stop talking! Listen to me. Of course I’ll date you. Of course I will. I love you.”  
  
It was Emily’s turn to slump in her chair, “You love _me_? But what about Gerardo?”  
  
The blonde threw her hands up in exasperation, “He’s a friend I eat lunches and dinners with. I had to have someone to talk to since my best friend wouldn’t speak to me. And despite the rumors, I’m certainly not dating him and I certainly haven’t slept with him—not that he hasn’t tried. Anyway, I only started seeing him to make you jealous, which was obviously incredibly stupid on my part.”  
  
“Not so stupid. It did work.” Emily shook her head in wonder, “What a bloody cock-up! All this misery for nothing?”  
  
Serena nodded, “Maybe it would have helped to…talk?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Emily said testily, “I get the point. English woman finally pulls head out of arse.”  
  
She blushed again when Serena reached across the table and took her chilly hand, “So, Emily, can we now consider ourselves officially dating? I don’t want to date anyone else.”  
  
Serena’s hand was warm in hers, “Yes, I’d like that, although I don’t know what you see in me.”  
  
“I love you, although there’s almost not enough of you to see.”  
  
“I love you, too, you know.”  
  
Serena looked at her watch and said smugly, “We handled all of that with less than ten minutes of conversation.”  
  
“Again with that? I won’t live this down, will I?”  
  
“It’s unlikely.”

* * *

  
As they ascended in the elevator they both leaned against a wall in sheer relief.  
  
 “Dinner tonight?” Serena asked, “I’ll cook for you.”  
  
“I’d love it.”  
  
“I warn you. I’m going to kiss you.”  
  
“Even better.”

**End Part One**


	2. Part 2

* * *

Before Emily could even sit down, she heard Miranda call her name. She walked quickly into the office and said, “Yes, Miranda?”  
  
Miranda looked up and saw the first genuine smile on Emily’s face she’d seen in months. She looked into the eyes of the beaming, joyful skeleton in front of her and said, “I take it lunch went…well?”  
  
Emily blushed at the insinuating tone in Miranda’s voice. Her mother had been totally right. “Yes. Very well.”  
  
“I certainly hope your newfound happiness won’t impair your work performance.”  
  
“Of course not, Miranda, but the nutritionist did say that…well, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
“The nutritionist said what?”  
  
“He said that as I adjust to more intake, I’m likely to feel much worse before I feel better and that my blood sugar might be a bit wonky for a while.”  
  
“Which translates into?”  
  
“I may need to sit instead of stand in run-throughs, for instance, and I might be a bit moody.”  
  
“Moodier than you’ve been? Is that even possible?” She waved her hand, “Very well. Sit if you must. And do try to keep your level of impertinence toward me to that which I would fire others for, not that which I’d toss them through windows for.”  
  
“I’ll try. I really will. Thank you, Miranda.”  
  
The older woman sniffed, her face entirely blank, “For what?”  
  
“Everything.”  
  
The only response was the slightest nod. “That’s all.”

* * *

Three hours later, after drinking her afternoon cement, Emily understood what the nutritionist had meant. She was running hot and cold and although she didn’t think she was actually going to vomit or faint, she felt a bit like doing both. She had to concentrate ferociously to bolster her energy enough to join Miranda, Nigel, Jocelyn and Lucia for a short late-afternoon run-through.  
  
Miranda took one look at her pale face and said, “There you are, Emily. Finally. And for God’s sake, don’t hover as usual. Sit over there.”  
  
“Of course, Miranda.” _Thank God_ , Emily thought, as she sank into the chair.  
  
The run-through went fairly quickly and well, and as they finished up, Miranda began to quickly rattle off a long list of instructions for Emily, who suddenly barked, “Miranda!”  
  
Miranda blinked her eyes in surprise, “Yes, Emily?”  
  
“We’re all well aware that you probably moonlight as an auctioneer somewhere but could you please remember you’re not at the auction house now and speak more slowly?” Even as the words left her mouth, she bit her lower lip.  
  
Nigel, Jocelyn and Lucia stared at her as if she’d grown three heads and they looked between Miranda and Emily and back again. Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. Insanely inappropriate. Undeniably amusing. Everyone watched in stunned apprehension as she crossed the room. The young woman flinched as Miranda raised her hand but she only placed it gently on Emily’s shoulder and said, “Read what you have to me.”  
  
As the young woman read, Miranda made corrections and added a few items. “There. Yes.” She patted Emily’s shoulder, then stepped away from her. “Type them up for Sara, as well, and delegate. She does all of the running. Do you understand?”  
  
“Of course, Miranda.”  
  
Miranda waved her away and as Emily departed, the others in the room now looked at their employer as if she’d grown three heads, a fact she decided not to notice. “That was an adequate run-through. If we keep up this pace we might produce one of those rare issues involving no loss of blood. Figuratively speaking, of course. That’s all.”  
  
Everyone left except Nigel, who asked, “Miranda? What was that?”  
  
“What?” She glanced at him. “Oh—Emily? She’s not feeling well.”  
  
“And? People regularly come to work at _Runway_ with raging fevers.”  
  
“True. The difference with her is that she’s just as good a worker when she’s sick.”  
  
“But that attitude.”  
  
She took her seat at her desk. “I know, but to be perfectly honest, when she acts that way, I can barely refrain from laughing at her audacity. It’s like getting a jolt of cold seltzer water in the face. Refreshing, in moderation.”  
  
“Well, you know best but you may be creating a monster.”  
  
“No, Nigel. If anything, she’s discovering her own inner monster.”

* * *

  
Serena had admonished her not to bring anything—anything—to dinner and to dress as casually as she could. Now that she actually cared, for the first time in months, what she looked like, Emily had spent some time trying on different outfits. Nothing she had fit her anymore and the draping of the extra fabric over her frame emphasized, rather than disguised, how thin she’d become. She’d finally chosen jeans, which she held on with a belt at its last notch and a nice sweater.  
  
When Serena opened her door, she smiled beautifully, quickly ushered a very nervous Emily in and drew her into a gentle hug, which immediately became even gentler when she felt the size of the person in her arms.  
  
Emily hugged her gratefully and when they separated, Serena gave her the briefest kiss on her lips. Emily smiled and touched her lips with her fingers, “That’s the first time I’ve ever kissed a woman.”  
  
“Is it really? Well, good for me. Serena for the win. More kissing soon. Food first.”  
  
Serena had her sit on a stool in the kitchen as she finished preparing their meal.  
  
She opened the pot lid, stirred, and then checked the oven. “We’re having chicken and dumplings and bread. But the chicken’s been minced almost to paste and the dumplings are very light. Don’t you hate a bad dumpling?”  
  
Emily rolled her eyes, “Dumplings are carbs, Serena. I probably haven’t had one in over five years.”  
  
“My God. No wonder you feel so poorly. You’re suffering from dumpling deprivation.” She pointed at the pot, “These dumplings are what they should be, tasty little clouds in the soup. I’ve had dumplings I’ve had to fight with a knife—like trying to eat a billiard ball.”  
  
Emily felt herself gradually relaxing as Serena chattered away and was surprised she felt no spike of anxiety when the woman asked about her nutrition appointment. She hooted with laughter when Emily told her what she’d said to Miranda and smirked as she described the woman’s reaction. “Somebody is becoming—what do you call it? Oh yes. A teacher’s pet.”  
  
“I am not.”  
  
“You are, too. She likes you.”  
  
“She tolerates me.”  
  
“We’ll talk about this later. First we eat and you concentrate on that.”  
  
The food was delicious and they ate in relative silence. After Emily had finished an impressive amount of soup, Serena said, “I’ll clean later. Follow me.”  
  
She led Emily to a large and very comfortable-looking couch, kicked her shoes off, arranged some throw pillows on one end and stretched out on her side. She patted the couch, “There’s enough room here for you to stretch out flat on your back. Come join me.”  
  
Emily slid her shoes off and arranged herself on the couch next to Serena, and flushed at the feeling of the woman’s body touching hers. Serena propped her head on one hand and stroked Emily’s cheek.  
  
“How are you feeling?  
  
Looking into Serena’s kind eyes, she replied, “I’m full. And I’m nervous.”  
  
“Full I understand. Nervous about kissing?”  
  
Emily nodded.  
  
“Well, we’re not going to kiss for a while because kissing makes your blood rush all sorts of pleasant places. I think your body needs to concentrate on your food for a while. Why don’t we talk? Are you comfortable being this close to me?”  
  
“Yes. Very.”  
  
“Good. You know, last night I was miserable without you and look at me now.”  
  
Emily nodded. “I can’t believe it, either.”  
  
“It certainly took us long enough—and I don’t mean all this time you’ve been ignoring me. I’ve been hitting on you steadily since about the third day I knew you.”  
  
“No you haven’t!”  
  
“A child could have seen it, Emily. I gave up hope because I thought you weren’t interested. It never occurred to me that you could just be so completely oblivious.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“It’s true. You and your new best friend Miranda are very much alike.”  
  
Emily’s tone was petulant. “She’s not my best friend and we’re nothing alike.”  
  
Serena smiled down at her, “You’re adorable when you’re indignant, which makes you adorable most of your waking life. Okay, at least alike in the fact that you both can spend an extended period of time with someone without realizing you have glaringly obvious romantic feelings for that person. And if she’s not your new best friend, why do think Miranda’s giving you such latitude? She’d fire anyone else for what you said today.”  
  
Emily thought about this for a few moments, “I think once I decided that I didn’t really care if she fired me, I wasn’t afraid of her anymore. Now that she knows I don’t care what she thinks, she shows me a little more respect.”  
  
Serena’s eyes flashed with amusement. “ _You_? You don’t care what Miranda Priestly thinks?”  
  
“Not anymore.”  
  
Serena grinned and shook her head, “Alright, why don’t you tell me how you feel when you go into her office or when she walks into a room you’re in.”  
  
“How do I feel? Well. I used to feel nauseated from fear and anxiety but now I don’t feel anything; I just think ‘There’s Miranda.’”  
  
“Let’s try again and imagine that what you really feel shows on your face, at least to me.”  
  
Emily’s brow lowered as she thought and then she rolled her eyes and huffed, “Alright. Fine. There is that. I’ll admit it.”  
  
“What is ‘that?’”  
  
Emily placed her hand on her heart and fluttered her fingers.  
  
“Very good, Emily. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Perfectly natural to feel that for someone you love.”  
  
“I do not love Miranda Priestly.”  
  
“Oh, yes you do. I’m not saying it’s a romantic love. Let’s call it a courtly love.” Serena continued in a theatrical tone. “She is your lady and you are her stalwart, gallant knight who stands between her and the world, willing to do anything, sacrifice anything and suffer anything for her. Your devotion and duty to your lady is as absolute as breathing and although she’s a harsh mistress, it never dims your ardor for her. And so you rise every morning, don your Versace or Chanel armor and prepare for yet another day of slaying fashion dragons for her.”  
  
“You’re mocking me.”  
  
Serena grinned and kissed her cheek, “I promise I’m not. But I am grateful that the person for whom you willingly sacrifice so much is finally showing you appreciation and affection, in her way.”  
  
“Why are we talking about Miranda when we could be kissing?”  
  
“Foreplay?” Serena smiled, leaned forward and kissed Emily tenderly, then kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks and then returned to her lips. She kissed them gently, then lightly ran her tongue across Emily’s top lip, then her bottom lip. Emily put her arm around Serena’s neck and the kiss deepened. Their tongues brushed against each other but it wasn’t a kiss of building sexual intensity. It was a tender, happy kiss, a relieved kiss. They were finally together and they reveled in their closeness for a very long time until Serena pulled gently away. She nuzzled Emily’s cheek and whispered into her ear, “I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
Serena propped her head in her hand again and smiled at her partner’s rosy complexion. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Very, very good.”  
  
“That’s wonderful. I do, too. But I think that’s enough for tonight.”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
“Because you’re not well, you need lots of rest, and we’re in no hurry because I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
As Emily caressed Serena’s cheek, she closed her eyes for a few moments and opened them. “Thank you for that segue. Speaking of no hurry, I have something to ask you.”  
  
“Alright. Ask away.”  
  
“I know that, eventually, we’ll want to…consummate this relationship.”  
  
Serena smiled at the word. “Yes. We’ll make love.”  
  
“And I know—I know—I’ve put you through a lot in the last few months. But I would really prefer to reach my goal weight before we do that.”  
  
Serena took Emily’s hand and kissed her knuckles, “And why is that? I would still find you beautiful.”  
  
“Yes. I know you would love me despite my appearance, just as you do even now. But I am, very literally, a skeleton covered with skin. Look at me. Really look at me—not at the Emily you love—me.”  
  
Serena forced herself to see the woman as she was and Emily watched the woman’s eyes fill with sorrow.  
  
“You see? You would try to overlook it and I could try but it would be hard. I don’t want that to be a memory of our first time together—for either of us. Would you mind waiting?”  
  
Serena pecked her on the lips, “Of course not. You must be comfortable. So—if there’s more kissing and cuddling in the meantime, I’ll wait.”  
  
“Thank you, Serena.”  
  
“It’s nothing, my dearest. Let’s sit up.”  
  
They sat side by side and Emily took Serena’s hand and rested her head on her shoulder. After a few minutes, Serena gently rubbed Emily’s forearm. “You need to get home.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Before you go, I have an idea that I’m sure you won’t like but I think it would be good.”  
  
Emily turned to look at Serena as she continued, “You’re just starting a very difficult journey. I’d like to take a picture of you today. Because when the journey is over, you’ll remember this time but it’ll become more and more vague. I want, when you look back, for you always to be able to really see what you accomplished.”  
  
“What kind of picture?”  
  
“I’d like for you to put one of my tank tops on and of course you’ll keep your jeans on.”  
  
A mixture of emotions passed over Emily’s face. “It’s very ugly, Serena.”  
  
“Malnutrition is ugly. You are not.”  
  
Emily shrugged. “Alright. But you’d better give me the smallest tank you have.”

* * *

  
After the picture had been taken, they’d kissed goodnight and Emily had left, Serena leaned against the door. She’d successfully managed to keep the complete shock out of her reaction to Emily’s body and she refused to cry now. Tears wouldn’t help. Food and affection would.

* * *

**One Month Later**

* * *

It was a typical Friday night for Serena and Emily. They’d had dinner, talked and cuddled and kissed for a while. Serena always felt it incumbent upon her to keep their kissing loving and affectionate. She studiously avoided, though greatly tempted, any escalation in their kissing because she never wanted Emily to feel that she was disappointed in their nearly celibate relationship.  
  
They’d spent many weekday nights and every weekend together since they’d begun dating and had worked out a system for bedtime. Emily would change into her bedclothes in the bathroom and then Serena would do the same. Emily always wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt because they were all that kept her warm enough. Serena wore modest pajamas.  
  
Serena smiled as Emily came out of the bathroom and hopped into the bed. Serena grabbed her pajamas and Emily placed a hand on her arm. “Would you do something for me tonight?”  
  
“Of course—what?”  
  
“Would you undress in front of me?”  
  
Serena’s eyes widened and Emily rushed to say, “You don’t have to and I know it’s not fair that I want to see you when I don’t want you to see me.”  
  
“You want to see me, dear?”  
  
Emily nodded.  
  
“Why tonight?”  
  
“Right. Well. Obviously, you’re gorgeous and who wouldn’t want to but I was thinking about this and there’s no reason you have to go into the bathroom to change when you could change here. It would be less trouble.”  
  
“Oh. I see. It’s for you and for me.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How could I deny such a kind gesture on your part? But I’ll have to warn you it’s not going to be a strip tease—I’m just undressing.” Serena stood, slipped of her shoes, unbuttoned her blouse, removed it and tossed it on her bedroom chair. She made short work of her bra and smiled at Emily’s eyes, which were riveted by her breasts.  
  
She removed her blue jeans and panties in one motion and they joined the other clothes. “So,” she said, slowing turning around one full rotation, “this is me.”  
  
Emily’s eyes went everywhere and she stifled a laugh of incredulity. “Serena—that’s insane. You’re so bloody perfect, you don’t even look real.”  
  
“Why, thank you, Em. Would you like me to join you on the bed? It would help you verify that I’m real.”  
  
Emily swallowed hard. “Like that?”  
  
“Yes, like this. If you scoot over, I’ll stretch out beside you.”  
  
Emily scrambled out of the way, sat cross-legged and watched as Serena arranged her pillows and, soon, six feet of naked woman was lying beside her. She felt the blood rush to her face and a jolt of desire between her legs.  
  
Serena smiled and lay one hand lightly on Emily’s thigh. “Your looking at me this way excites me, Emily. Does it excite you?”  
  
Emily nodded. Her face felt like it was burning, “I’ve never felt this way in my life. I want to touch you so badly I can’t even…”  
  
“You can touch me.”  
  
“But we can’t—“  
  
“We won’t. But you can touch me.”  
  
Emily leaned forward, cupped Serena’s cheek and smiled. She let her fingers trace down Serena’s face to her neck and lightly brushed down her neck to her collarbones. She traced these with her fingers, lingering over those beautiful shoulders and the hollow at the base of her neck. She moved downward and hesitated.  
  
“You can touch them, too.”  
  
Emily felt her breath become shallow as she touched one of Serena’s breasts. The woman’s nipples were already tight and hard and Emily used her thumb to tease first one, and then the other. She looked up into Serena’s eyes, which were the same but not the same. She’d never seen true desire in them.  
  
“Is this too much, Serena?”  
  
The answer was cool, “No. Please continue.”  
  
Emily rearranged herself in the bed and used both hands to lightly skim over the sides of Serena’s torso and grinned as she saw chill bumps rise on the woman’s skin. She ran her hands over Serena’s ribs, her stomach and used the very lightest touch to trace her hips and thighs. She smiled when she’d reached as far as she could and said, “You’re so long,” as she patted her and sat upright.  
  
Serena took this to mean this exercise was over. “I am long. You’re right. Thank you, Emily. That was very nice. I hope you enjoyed it, too.”  
  
Emily shook her head ruefully, “I enjoyed it so much I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep for a while.”  
  
“I understand perfectly, believe me.”  
  
“I’m sorry we can’t—‘  
  
“Hush. No apologies. We made an agreement.”  
  
They looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed like a very long time, both locked in the same unrequited desire. Serena licked her lips, “Would you mind if I—would you watch me touch myself for you?”  
  
The answer was automatic. “Yes. Please.”  
  
“It’s not just for you, it’s because of you.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Serena ran her hands lightly over her own breasts, then cupped and squeezed them. She focused on her nipples, teasing and pulling them, closing her eyes.  
Emily watched and listened, finding the sound of the woman’s breathing, the breathing of desire, as erotic as anything she was seeing. She was vaguely aware that her breathing had changed, as well.  
  
“I can’t wait, Emily.” Serena looked into her eyes and dipped one hand down between her legs, tracing each fold, each surface. Serena parted her legs and Emily repositioned herself to watch. “You see how wet you’ve made me?”  
  
Emily nodded. She put one hand on Serena’s thigh and the woman gasped, saying, “Yes. Just one touch.” Emily felt like her head was going to explode when Serena plunged two fingers inside herself. She heard herself saying, “Good—nice and slow.” Serena did as she was asked and Emily felt spellbound watching those long elegant fingers appearing and disappearing, again and again, into her lover.  
  
But finally, Serena withdrew and focused on her clit, moving gently and slowly, and then firmly and faster. It took no time at all before she cried out, grabbing Emily’s hand on her thigh and holding it as she rocked through her climax. As Serena caught her breath, Emily took the woman’s hand, still wet and warm and took the length of each finger into her mouth, getting all she could taste from the experience.  
  
Serena ruffled Emily’s hair, “If you keep that up, I’ll have do it again.”  
  
Emily released Serena’s hand, “I’d watch.” She rearranged herself so that she could run a hand through Serena’s hair and kiss her. “You were so beautiful. I can’t wait to do that for you myself.”  
  
“I can’t either—but we’re going to.” She pecked Emily on each check and on the lips. “Now, what about you?”  
  
“What about me?”  
  
“You haven’t had your fun tonight.”  
  
“Of course I have.”  
  
“No, you haven’t but I have an idea. Get up a little so I can pull the comforter and the sheet down.”  
  
Emily did as she was asked and Serena covered her with the sheet, not joining her under it. “There you go. You’re all covered up. Slide those sweatpants down.” Serena saw a flash of anxiety and doubt in Emily’s eyes. “It’s only me, Em, and I can’t see.” Emily did as she was asked. Serena, lying on her side, raised up on one elbow and said, “Slip your arm through and hold me.” Emily sighed as she did so and ran her hand over Serena’s beautiful back.  
  
“Now—you’re handling under the covers and I’m going to kiss you while you do it. I’ll start.”  
  
As Serena leaned in and kissed her, Emily found herself so wet, it was almost embarrassing but it felt so good and Serena was swiping over her lips—gentle teasing motions. Emily could almost imagine it was Serena giving her folds gentle, teasing strokes. Emily opened her mouth as Serena gave the insides of her lips slower, firmer strokes. Emily parted her legs and followed suit. She understood now. After many pleasant moments of this, Serena used her tongue to make the gentlest of circling motions against Emily’s tongue and Emily gently circled her entrance with her fingers. And just when Emily didn’t think she could wait any longer, Serena withdrew for a moment and gently thrust her tongue into Emily’s mouth as Emily groaned, sliding two fingers just barely inside herself, moving them with Serena’s tongue. They both enjoyed this and took their time with it, Emily lost between the matching sensations of Serena’s mouth and her hand.  
  
Serena stopped moving and then firmly pushed her tongue deep into Emily’s mouth as Emily’s fingers slid all the way in. Serena’s tongue moved slowly and deeply in Emily’s mouth and Emily sucked her tongue deeper even as she pushed her fingers in slow but hard. When Serena had had enough of this she opened her mouth wider, encouraging her lover to do the same even as Emily added a third finger. They groaned together and then they both began kissing each other deeply and frantically, Emily jamming her fingers in as hard and as fast as she could. Serena held Emily down, firmly clutching a fistful of red hair and Emily dug her nails into Serena’s back. Emily felt her climax rising and she fucked herself harder and faster, feeling Serena react in their bruising kiss. When her breathing unmistakably changed, Serena pulled away and said, “Come, Emily.” And she did, with an intensity she’d never felt in her life.  
  
Serena leaned over her, both of them having to catch their breath. When they were sufficiently recovered, Serena slid back, “Recover your arm, little girl.” Emily pulled it out from behind her lover and Serena leapt up, grabbed her pajamas and, as she put them on, said, “Pull up those pants so I can hug you.”  
  
Emily did so and Serena joined her under the sheet, pulling her close. Emily kissed her on the neck, “You’re…dangerous, Serena.”  
  
“You seem to be able to handle me.”  
  
“Barely. I probably won’t be able to close my jaw properly for a week.”  
  
“Back to liquid foods.”  
  
Emily poked Serena in the ribs, “Very funny. Speaking of—I’m starving.”  
  
“Very funny.”  
  
“Oh. Right. Sorry. No. I mean, I’m really hungry.”  
  
Serena sat straight up, literally beaming with happiness, “You _are_?”  
  
Emily looked at her quizzically. “Yes. Is that—“  
  
“You’re hungry! That’s fantastic! You haven’t been hungry since you started eating again. You’ve just eaten because you had to. What do you want? I’ll get you anything.”  
  
“A bowl of ice cream—whatever you have.”  
  
As Emily ate her ice cream in bed, it was a bit disconcerting yet sweet that Serena was watching her like a moon-sick calf. She waved her spoon in the air, “I suppose the thrill will be gone when you get accustomed to seeing me eat.”  
  
“No. I can think of at least one thing you can eat that will always thrill me.”  
  
Emily sniffed, “I will pretend you did not say that.”  
  
“Thank you, Emily. I love you.”  
  
“And I love you. Especially naked.”

* * *

  
It was strange, Nigel thought, how like junior high _Runway_ could be. It was a hotbed of gossip and rumors whipped ‘round the place at an amazing speed. Of course, he’d heard a great deal of gossip about Emily’s tremendous weight loss, which was attributed, by the different parties spreading it, to Miranda’s simply working her to death, anorexia or some dread disease. When Serena and Emily had stopped interacting and Gerardo entered the picture, it became obvious that Serena and Emily must have been dating before and Serena had dumped her for Gerardo. Consternation built as news of Miranda’s astonishing hands-off approach to Emily became general knowledge. Serena and Emily were lunching together again, every day, and Emily seemed to have twice as long for lunch as before. The rumor mill decided on the only conclusion that seemed to fit all the facts.  
  
Miranda, Nigel and Serena were going over a number of layouts in Miranda’s office when Nigel said, apropos of nothing. “Have you heard the latest?”  
  
“Latest what,” Miranda said without looking up.  
  
“The latest gossip.”  
  
Serena groaned.  
  
“Yes, it involves you. And you, Miranda.”  
  
“When doesn’t it? You shouldn’t listen to it, Nigel. It’s very much like hearing the plot of a novel described by a not-very-bright person you don’t like.”  
  
“I think you’ll like this.”  
  
Serena said, “Go ahead—I’ve heard pieces of it.”  
  
“Well,” Nigel said, with obvious enjoyment, “It seems that Emily has a terminal disease of some sort, which explains her weight loss. It also explains, Miranda, your letting her get away with the equivalent of _Runway_ murder, her extended lunchtime and Serena’s re-entering her life. It’s garnering great sympathy for Emily, some respect for Serena for coming to her aid and a slight revision of your reputation, Miranda, since you’re treating your poor dying assistant so well.”  
  
Miranda looked over her glasses, “Who’s saying this?”  
  
“Oh you know,” he waved his hand, “nearly everyone.”  
  
“No wonder most of them do such slipshod work—they’re too busy talking about each other. Nigel, please take these down personally and make sure these changes are made correctly this time. And perhaps you might suggest to Paul and Michael that hearing and vision tests might be in order if they can’t follow the simplest of instructions.”  
  
When Nigel nodded, grabbed the layouts and left, Miranda was surprised that Serena didn’t leave with him.  
  
“Yes, Serena?”  
  
“With respect, I hope you know that you don’t have to do anything about the rumors. Emily and I don’t care. We know and you know what’s true. It’ll just bring more attention to Emily, which she doesn’t need.”  
  
Miranda drummed her fingers on the table. “I will deal with it as I see fit, Serena, but I will take your concerns into consideration.”  
  
“Thank you, Miranda.”

* * *

**To: All Users  
From: Miranda Priestly  
Subject: An Invitation**  
  
It has come to my attention that a great many of you find your work duties so light that you have a portion of your day free to dedicate to the discussion of your fellow coworkers: their lives, relationships and even their interactions with me.  
I find this astonishing, given the fact I can count on one hand the number of my employees whose work performance is completely satisfactory to me.  
  
However, I am always looking for ways to assist my employees in reaching their potential. If you feel you don’t have enough to do, and I know exactly who most of you are, I’d like to invite you to come see me personally and we’ll work on that together.  
  
Note that I’m jumping to the better of two conclusions. The only other conclusion I could possibly draw from hearing the things I’ve heard is that you have quite enough to do and are merely casually and/or maliciously spreading gossip about each other. That I can handle in another way.  
  
Regardless, the invitation and my door, remain open. As you know, the exit doors to the Elias Clarke building are open every business day, as well.  
  
Miranda

* * *

“Emily? Is that you out there, finally?”  
  
Emily strode into the office with her pad in hand, “Yes, Miranda?”  
  
“Where on Earth have you been?”  
  
“At Lagerfeld—you told me to go myself.”  
  
“Yes. So I did. But I meant Lagerfeld in New York, not L.A.”  
  
“Oh, believe me, I was in-state. But nothing—nothing—was ready when I got there.”  
  
“Do I need to get involved?”  
  
“No. I believe I said enough to leave scorch marks.”  
  
“Good.” Miranda proceeded to rip through a list of demands at her usual speed, which Emily could now tolerate. When she’d finished, she looked Emily over, “108 or 109?”  
  
“108.5”  
  
Miranda nodded, “That’s all.”  
  
Emily didn’t leave. “Am I one of them?”  
  
“One of what.”  
  
“Your email today. Am I one of the five employees you find satisfactory?”  
  
“Emily, you have work to do.”  
  
“I won’t tell anyone if you tell me.”  
  
“Oh? But what if you’re not one of them?”  
  
Emily’s face fell.  
  
“You see? They are certain questions you should never ask unless you know the answer already.”  
  
“But I thought I knew already.”  
  
“Just so. If you know already, why are you asking?”  
  
A smile broke across Emily’s face. “That means yes.”  
  
Miranda pointed toward the door. “Leave.”  
  
“Is Serena one of them?”  
  
“You can leave through the door or through the window.”  
  
“Got it.”

* * *

**One Month Later**

* * *

  
Emily closed the doors and sat in a chair in front of Miranda’s desk.  
  
“I suppose you know why we’re meeting.”  
  
“Yes. You want to know how tall I am.”  
  
Miranda ignored this. “How much do you weigh, Emily?”  
  
“116 pounds.”  
  
“Yes. I see that. You may consider your _Runway_ nutritional regimen at an end. You have not asked for my opinion but I will give it and, as you know, my opinion is platinum. I believe you could gain another five to ten pounds and remain a perfectly reasonable size 4. I would suggest you do so. The decision is yours, of course.”  
  
“Actually I agree and I wondered if I could continue to keep my Ensure in your refrigerator?”  
  
Miranda waved a hand, “Of course.”  
  
“I assume my lunch break will be 20 minutes from now on?”  
  
Miranda studied her face for the vaguest hint of puppy-dog manipulation but could detect only a request for information.  
  
“No. It will remain 40 minutes in order to reinforce your good nutritional habits.”  
  
“Thank you, Miranda.”  
  
“No thanks are needed. I’m merely saving myself the trouble of force-feeding you again. ‘Though I’m sure I will never find that necessary because you will never starve yourself again. And that is not a request or a suggestion. That is a demand. Are we clear on that?  
  
“Of course, Miranda.”  
  
“One more thing. Although it would be easier for me, I know that you can’t remain my assistant forever. If you wish to stay at _Runway_ , we’re going to have to find a way to move you upward and onward.”  
  
Emily stifled a laugh.  
  
Miranda’s voice was cool, “Is something funny? I’m speaking of your career.”  
  
“No. I’m sorry. When you said that, the first thought that popped into my head was sort of ridiculous.”  
  
“Oh? Please share.”  
  
Emily blushed, “My first thought was that I’d rather stay with you. I’d be happier with you. I mean professionally, of course.”  
  
Miranda paused and almost smiled, “You are one of only two people I’ve met in my professional career who feel that way. The other one I took home. I’ll keep that in mind and I’ll see what we can do.” She stood and walked around the desk as Emily stood.  
  
Miranda was suddenly very close and seemed uncertain for a moment but forged ahead. “I don’t do or say these things well, Emily, but I am gratified that you are healthier again. It would distress me greatly should anything happen to you.”  
  
“Thank you, Miranda,” she replied, feeling a lump in her throat.  
  
“That’s all.”  
  
Emily stood and crossed to the door but before she opened it, turned and said, “I love you, too.” Her smile was genuinely cheeky.  
  
“Get out! Leave!  
  
Emily continued to smile as she opened the office doors.  
  
As Emily took her seat, Sara whispered, “Everything okay?”  
  
“Golden.”

* * *

  
The wait was over, the night had come and both Serena and Emily were feeling extraordinarily nervous. They had enjoyed their dinner and had discussed their respective workdays. But as the time drew nearer to a reasonable bedtime, their conversation became stilted and there were periods of silence.  
  
Emily finally said, “Look. We’re both nervous about the big reveal but would you mind if we did something?”  
  
Happy for any suggestion, Serena answered, “Sure.”  
  
“Would you greatly mind if tonight we just make love and save all the teasing and pyrotechnics and wild positions for later? We have all the time in the world to prove to each other that we’re the most astonishing lovers in the universe. Could we just make love like we’re happy to be together? It would take so much pressure off.”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
In Serena’s bedroom, Emily said, “I’ll go first. You’ve been parading around naked for me for a month. Be warned—there’s still probably not enough of me but there’s more than there was. Alright. I’m just going to pretend that I’m not nervous about this. And she didn’t look nervous as she undressed completely but there was a bit of anxiety in her eyes when she looked into Serena’s for her reaction. “Oh, Emily. You’re much more beautiful than I’d imagined—and I’d really built you up in my mind. Get into bed and keep warm.”  
  
When Serena undressed and joined her, Emily pulled her on top of her and both of them sighed. “I want to feel you everywhere, Serena. Just move on top of me for a bit—I need you.” Serena raised herself on her elbows to comply and as their breasts rubbed against each other’s, she watched Emily close her eyes and felt the woman’s hands running over her back. She kissed Emily’s chin and Emily opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering. “You feel so good, Serena. I’ve needed you to touch me for so long.”  
  
“Yes. I’ve needed it, too.” Serena felt Emily clutch at her back as she ran a firm tongue over one side of the woman’s neck, a definite hot zone for her. She switched sides again and again, licking and gently nipping as Emily moaned beneath her.  
  
She rolled off and to the side of Emily and kissed her firmly, then looked into her eyes as she ran her hand over the woman’s collarbones and teasingly moving closer and closer to her breasts. Emily expected her touch but she did not expect Serena to duck quickly downward and take one of her breasts in her hot, wet mouth.  
  
“Oh my God,” Emily whispered as she felt Serena’s hot tongue swiping and teasing her nipple and she heard herself making pleading sounds. Serena pulled away, flattened her tongue and licked her breast firmly, from every angle. Emily ran her hand into Serena’s hair and encouraged her to move to her other breast. Serena grinned as she hastened to give this breast the same treatment, deeply enjoying the breathing and the gasping and the pleading.  
  
She let this breast go and looked into Emily’s eyes. “You are so beautiful.”  
  
Emily murmured, “Serena, please.”  
  
“Yes. I will. Wait just a bit.”  
  
Serena kissed, licked and bit the sides of Emily’s torso, places Emily had never known could be so sensitive. Evidently, they were even hotter than her neck and she found herself unable to keep from arching her back with the strength of her reaction to the sensation. Serena kissed her stomach, moving lower and lower, all the way down to her pubic line before giving a lick and a nip to the sides of each hip. She would have loved to have teased the woman for hours but Emily had made her wishes very clear, so she threw one leg over her, straddling her so that her wetness and warmth was resting on her lover’s pubic hair. She smiled down at Emily. “Can you feel what you do to me, darling?”  
  
Emily nodded and Serena ground down in tight little circles for just a few moments, feeling Emily grip her thighs with each hand. She leaned forward, letting her long hair fall and moved her head slowly from side to side so that it brushed Emily’s breasts and her stomach. She felt Emily’s hands stroking, then grasping her thighs. “Please, Serena.”  
  
She kissed Emily on the stomach in acknowledgement, “Spread your legs, Emily.”  
  
Serena knelt in the space Emily had created and ran her hands over the tops and sides of her thighs but only used the back of her nails up the length of her inner thighs. Emily closed her eyes as Serena did this again and again. And then it stopped. She felt her lover gently run her arms under her legs and felt a breath, a nuzzling of her pubic hair. She felt a closed mouth kiss on her wetness and then Serena’s warm wet mouth. She gripped the sheets and tried to relax into her lover’s leisurely exploration and the humming sounds of pleasure she made which seemed to reverberate inside her.  
  
Emily wanted to wait but she really couldn’t. “Serena please. You’re so good…you’re so good but I need you right now.” In two seconds, she cried out as she felt two of Serena’s fingers thrust deep inside her, “God yes. Please—please fuck me. Fuck me hard.” And Serena did, to the sound of Emily’s, “Yes, yes, yes, yes….” Serena loved this and did it until she saw Emily almost tearing the sheets off the bed. She kept fucking her and lowered her head, circling her clit with her tongue. She felt Emily stiffen, relax, stiffen, relax and then stiffen. And then she heard Emily cry out at the same time her warm tightness contracted around her fingers. It took many moments before Emily finished shuddering, but Serena waited a few more before sliding her fingers out, giving her mound a light goodbye kiss and crawling up to hug Emily, whose breathing was still a bit heavy. Emily threw her arms around her and kissed her deeply before saying, “That was fantastic.”  
  
Serena caressed her cheek, “I’m glad. It was for me, too. My first time touching you. I was very nervous.”  
  
“I’d never have known, believe me. I’m terribly sorry I was so bossy. Everything you were doing was lovely and hot but I really just couldn’t wait.”  
  
“That’s okay. I like a woman who knows what she wants and asks for it.”  
  
“One question. Do you mind my saying ‘Fuck me?’”  
  
“Not a bit—it’s very succinct. Gets straight to the point.”  
  
“My feelings exactly.”

* * *

  
The first time she had sex, Serena realized there was something about being on the receiving end of sexual attention that activated her funny bone. She had never had sex in her life during which she didn’t have to stifle a laugh. This was no exception.  
  
Emily, it turned out, could be an amazingly aggressive lover, in a very good way. After one minute, Serena just let go and lost herself in the sensation of being touched and grabbed, licked and sucked and bitten. At one point, the thought did occur to her that Emily was the most ravenous lover she’d ever had. That was when she had to stifle a laugh. She wondered vaguely whether she could share this with Emily later. No, that would be in bad taste. That was the second time she had to stifle a laugh. But when Emily flipped her over and gave her back and ass the same treatment she’d given her front, there was no more thought. All she could do was hold on and listen to sounds she couldn’t recognize, sounds that she was making. Just when she didn’t think she could take anymore, Emily flipped her over again, fucked her harder than she’d ever been fucked in her life and licked her as if she was trying to lick her dry. When Emily finally let her come, she felt like a Roman candle had gone off in her head.  
  
After Serena’s breathing had returned to normal, which took some time, she looked over at Emily and, amazingly, saw only her lovely English girlfriend. She shook her head to clear it and said, “Is that how you always are in bed?”  
  
Emily’s face fell, “You didn’t like it?”  
  
Serena quickly kissed her, “Oh no, sweetheart. I loved it. I loved it a lot. Much more than a lot, actually. But I may have to start taking vitamins to keep up with you.”  
  
Emily smiled sweetly, “Right. And think about this. I’m just now getting my strength back.”  
  
Serena covered her face with her hands and Emily heard a muffled “Oh my God.”

* * *

  
After cuddling and kissing for nearly another hour, Emily asked, “Could you tell me something, Serena?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I can see that you love me and I can feel that you love me but I have no idea why you love me. I know that I’m reasonably smart and witty but I’m not as nice as you are, I’m not as mature as you are and, of course, the disparity in our physical attractiveness has always given me pause.”  
  
“Discard that last reason. It’s ludicrous and superficial.”  
  
“Exactly. Add that, too. I’m very superficial.”  
  
Serena tapped her on the nose. “Yes, you are. A bit. That goes hand in hand with your immaturity, which is emotional, by the way.” She settled into her pillow and ran her hand over Emily’s cheek. “I’ve given this a lot of thought and, although it was very hard and even dangerous, I think it was good for you to have this crisis. If you hadn’t and it hadn’t been so obvious physically, you might have ignored it and forgotten it. And you would have learned nothing except how better to refuse yourself emotionally. That’s bad for you, Emily. I’m not saying you should run around feeling, feeling, feeling all the time. But the most important part of your life is not outside you. It’s here,” she touched Emily’s forehead, then her chest, “and here.”  
  
Emily furrowed her brow and chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought about this for a few moments. “When I was at my worst, I hated _Runway_ with the heat of a thousand suns.”  
  
Serena accepted this change of subject. “Really? Why?”  
  
“Because it wasn’t what I’d thought it was. I’d thought it was glamour and beauty and sophistication and a million other things. And it was all that but I realized, for the first time, it was actually entirely devoted to a level of perfection I could never reach.”  
  
“But that’s the entire point, Emily. No one can. And yes, of course, we inform and influence the fashion world. But that’s what we’re really selling—a dream that’s impossible to attain. I love fashion and I adore _Runway_ but I never forget that it’s an illusion and you shouldn’t, either. If you think about it that’s why Miranda is as hard as she is, as driven as she is. She knows the illusion must be absolutely perfect or it’s just a magazine full of pictures of clothes. And it is perfect because Miranda is the greatest and most powerful magician of her kind in the world. Even if you don’t like her, you must respect her for that reason alone.”  
  
Serena leaned forward and kissed Emily on the lips and then the tip of her nose.  
“Let’s use that to segue back to the point. If you hadn’t gone through this, you might have been a Miranda and ignored yourself emotionally for 50 years or even forever. Miranda has undoubtedly forgotten more than I’ve ever known, but she knows very, very little about herself. Loving Andy has probably taught her more about herself in one year than she learned in the previous 50.”  
  
“You’ve been pulled out of a very dangerous storm, Emily, and it’s given you a chance to open up a little, to get to know yourself a little, and that’s great. It’s even better that it happened while you’re still so young. I guarantee you no one ever helped Miranda earlier in her life because she never let anyone see that she needed it. You did. I’m just glad I was here to see it.”  
  
“You didn’t just see it, Serena. You did it.”  
  
“No. It was a joint effort. Miranda pulled you out of the raging water.” She smirked, “I just gave you mouth to mouth.” She smiled and tucked a stray lock of Emily’s hair behind her ear. “Since you find me so perfect, let me ask you something. Imagine me as I am and put me in an enormous burlap sack.”  
  
“It wouldn’t have to be that big—just long.”  
  
“Play along, Emily.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Okay. Let’s say that all anyone else sees, all that even _I_ can see, is that burlap sack. But you don’t see a burlap sack. You see me.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I see you, Emily. I really see you. Others may not. You may not. But I do. And that’s why I love you. I love what I see.”  
  
“That’s not the same as loving me for my potential, is it?”  
  
“God no! Only an idiot does that. I love you just the way you are. And I have a strong feeling I’ll love who you become.”  
  
Emily looked down, feeling suddenly quite shy, “Well, thank you, Serena. That is, actually, a very nice reason.”  
  
“You’re welcome. And, if you need another, you’re phenomenal in bed.”  
  
Emily looked up. “Really?” She swatted Serena playfully, “That’s all you had to say. Superficial, remember?”  
  
“Ah, yes.”  
  
“And speaking of bed, I want to make love again.”  
  
Serena smirked at her and Emily replied, “What? You can't change an immature and superficial hedonist into an emotionally mature adult overnight.”  
  
“Nor would I want to.”  
  
“Good answer and don’t worry. I’ll be gentle this time.”

* * *

**Two Months Later**

* * *

 

It was Christmas Eve and Serena and Emily were trudging through the snow, holding hands and looking forward to a quiet night at home. They’d gotten each other a couple of small presents because Miranda had given them first dibs on all her plunder after Andy and the girls had rifled through it. They’d been skirting around a particular topic for days and, as Serena kicked the snow playfully in front of her, she asked, “Em, will you come live with me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well, good. That’s settled.” What she was actually thinking was _Wow! That was easy_.  
  
They passed a man loaded down with bags but he managed a hearty “Happy holidays!”  
  
“Same to you. Happy holidays!”  
  
And yes, they were.

* * *

At the Priestly home, Miranda had come home early to astonish Andy and the children and was pleased to find that she had. She was sitting in her study finishing one last bit of work when she heard the doorbell ring.  
  
“I’ll get it!” Andy shouted. Miranda rolled her eyes. It was bewildering that a woman who could whisper the most titillating suggestions in your ears could also sound like a foghorn at will.  
  
Andy ran in breathlessly and handed her a package, “It’s for you. Messenger. Gotta go—cookies in the oven.” She kissed her on the cheek and rushed out of the room.  
  
Miranda looked at the package. Ah, from Emily. She opened it and on top was a handwritten note.  
  
_Miranda,  
  
It would be presumptuous of me to wonder if you ever think of the lives you’ve touched with your life, with your work. I’m sure there are millions and I’m just one of them.  
  
When you helped me, I was starving and I knew it. I sincerely believe, however, at that time I would have taken food from no other hand but yours. Without your support and tremendous patience, I might not have lived, much less had the life and love I have today. And what more could you give a person?  
  
I wish I could pay you back but I don’t believe I could ever do enough. I’m sure you’ll think of something, though.  
  
Much love to you, Andy and the children.  
  
Emily (and Serena)_  
  
Miranda opened the tissue paper, and pulled out a beautiful frame. She turned it over and stared at the two pictures matted side by side in the frame.  
  
One was of Emily taken at her lowest weight. Her eyes were sunken and one could see the shape of the skull beneath her skin. She was wearing a tank top that revealed bones and nothing but. Shoulder bones, collarbones and ribs standing in sharp relief to the sunken skin around them. Her elbows were bigger than her arms. She had stuffed her hands into the pockets of jeans much too large for her cinched tight around a waist that was much too small. The corners of the girl’s mouth were turned up, evidently all the smile she had in her. Her eyes looked nearly lifeless.  
  
The picture next to it was the Emily she knew now. She was wearing the same outfit and had adopted the same pose but the difference made tears well in Miranda’s eyes. She looked fantastic, healthy and happy. The smile on her face was matched by the smile in her eyes and something about the look in those eyes told you she loved the photographer.  
  
Miranda stared at the picture and traced the faces of each photo with one finger. She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and said, “good” aloud. Just then, Andy popped in. “Hey, want some cookies?”  
  
“Maybe in a few minutes.”  
  
“Whatcha get?”  
  
Miranda handed her the note and the picture. Andy’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at the photos. “Wow.” She sat on the arm of Miranda’s chair and hugged her. “See what you did?”  
  
“All I did was command. Emily did all of the hard work. As usual.”  
  
“You probably saved her life.”  
  
“Nonsense. Let’s get cookies.”  
  
“Where do you think you’ll put the picture, Miranda? I mean, it’s sort of private.”  
  
“That it is. I’ll put it here in my study, right there on that side of my monitor.”  
  
“Wow. Prime real estate.”  
  
“True, but every picture tells a story and the overwhelming majority of the stories in my life have had endings I did not care for. This ending I like, very much indeed.”  
**  
  
~fin~**


End file.
